


K words

by homo_pink



Series: tumblr fics [1]
Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Hospital, Alternate Universe - Serial Killers, M/M, angel of death - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-09
Updated: 2016-06-09
Packaged: 2018-06-08 05:39:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,327
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6841219
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/homo_pink/pseuds/homo_pink
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt: <i>Hello, for some reason when i see that serial killer jensen tag I think about jensen as a nurse who likes to kill his patients with lethal injections like Charles Cullen. No one suspects it of course. Especially not his boyfriend jared, the doctor who willingly turns a blind eye to the alarming number of patients that have died in jensen's watch. They were going to die anyways he figures.</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	K words

**Author's Note:**

> (written january 2016. moving tumblr stuff over here for backup)

Jensen gives Digoxin kisses.

He works the night shift under the moon but everyone knows he’s part sun. The machines beep dully and the bags inflate metrically and Jensen can be a good-ghost on tiptoes when it’s time to get vitals. 

He’s pretty and gentle and his patients like to get things from him. They all call him words that sound like the letter K.

Mr. Hirota, after his third heart attack, says Jensen is _careful_.

“So _kind_ , so _considerate_ ,” 79-year-old Evelyn in 506 says, fussing over Jensen’s lopsided badge.

One of the youngest on the floor deems him _cool_ out loud and tells her furry lock-diary that really she meant _cute_. Abby’s a 2nd grader and knows with astute storybook wisdom what princes are.

They want small stuff, usually. 

A harmless hug or a sneaky sugar-free sucker, a look at his centerfold face. And Jensen gives liberally; everyone gets something. But only the special ones get kissed.

It’s maybe 50 mcg but ordinarily a little more. Sometimes 0.2 mg is all it takes. They never taste his lips, but they get to spy on his secret-soul. They’re in the big time then – however briefly it lasts.

Jared doesn’t know any of this, won’t for a long time, but _crush_ is shaped like K, too.

 

~

 

“It’ll be you that gets me caught,” Jensen says. It sounds like he’s blushing.

Jensen is tucked and bent down near the tile, re-looping the bunny ears on one of his shoes. Jared’s studying the round scoop of his butt from this angle, thinking about the excessive ways in which people love. Matching jewelry and matching names. Jared doesn’t love like any of those things.

“It’ll be you that catches me,” Jared says mildly.

It’s genuine, but he’s distracted by his favorite nurse’s fondest places. He only gets a half-peek of the joggled look on Jensen’s face before it mists gone.

“My nametag was backwards today,” Jensen says, like scolding. Like he’s a shushy librarian and Jared’s a virile teen.

Jared’s head feels backwards a lot. It’s Jensen-specific. And he means to say, “I’ll do better tomorrow,” but says instead, “I’ll fuck you softer tomorrow.”

Jensen makes the blush-sound again and his neck goes blood-pink under gold skin. He’s Jared’s good sunset boy. And he wears scrubs with little sea turtles printed on the pants.

Nobody uses the break room in the South wing by the elevators. 

The vending machine eats a lot of quarters, but the couch in the corner is sympathetic on knees and backs. 

 

~

 

Someone dies on a Thursday morning.

A bad liver comes in, a body bag goes out.

Time of death is 8:05 a.m. when Jared calls it. Jensen’s already gone home from his shift, cool death skin day.

 

~

 

Jared loves like this: wet teeth, bare cock, his hands at Jensen’s hips, Jensen teething at his throat. In the back of Jared’s SUV in the security monitored parking garage, Jared loves like no other.

He tried to tell Jensen once, early on. Two nights after he put his dick in Jensen for the first time.

“Look,” he’d said, careful to hold his clipboard in front of his chest and speak neutrally. “If I wanted to keep—“ _you_ , he’d thought, wild, reckless, “doing this.” Jensen’s eyes cut sideways. And Jared reformed his wants. “Do you like pasta?”

It’s hard to fuck up pasta, he knows how to make like six different dishes, he has a spice rack the size of—

Jared can still feel Jensen’s halting hand on his mumbling mouth. Can still hear the way Jensen said, old-man frail, “Relationships are a handicap.” How he’d said he couldn’t do that – but he could do this. “You can fuck me any time you want.”

Jared thinks he maybe fell in love the day Jensen quietly walked in for his first shift. Butterscotch drops on his cheeks, dad glasses on his nose.

An oxygen tank would’ve been useful then.

Now not even the defibrillators could help bring Jared back.

It’s okay when Jensen sits in his lap and rocks like a baby. It’s okay when Jensen takes a gut-deep breath and says, “do me,” into Jared’s ear, softly begging. It’s okay when Jensen puts his tongue in Jared’s mouth and gives him things that nobody else in the hospital gets.

Jared’s husband-heart takes what it can. It doesn’t really feel like he’s Jensen’s boss.

 

~

 

Dr. Padalecki doesn’t waste time doing the math.

He doesn’t check administered doses or timecharts and it’s not at the back of his head to wonder over precisely how many minutes certain pharmaceuticals take to kick in. 

 

~

 

“I know you don’t want to hear this,” Jared says, on their marital couch in the dark break room, the TV mounted in the corner spitting bluefire light against Jensen’s shoulders. “And I won’t say it again.”

Jensen’s belly down, shirt pushed high up along his ribs, and Jared’s got him in a ridiculous pose – ass pulled up like a bitch, bare from the waist down, so he can feel it the moment Jensen panics.

Jensen hates heart talk, and trapping him like this is unfair. But Jared can’t be kind. His brain feels like a clot.

“Just, you should know,” Jared says, quieter now like maybe it can be smudged out later on, his dick still spitting sloppy inside Jensen’s puckering ass. “I’m having a real hard time not telling you that I love you.”

 

~

 

Jared sees color-blurs sometimes. Pale hair the shade of dry cornstalks, turtle pattern material Jared’s hands have tugged to threads before. Lots of befores. 

He sees movement flitting between quiet doors of patients not assigned to Jensen and half convinces himself it’s an illusion borne from lack of sleep and intense adoration.

Jared starts seeing Jensen everywhere he goes. 

 

~

 

It’s 6 months before anyone mentions the fact that deceased patient folders are piling up and the morgue’s breathing down their neck.

It doesn’t look good for the ward and it doesn’t look good for Jared. The last few weeks alone have seen a spike in farewells.

He catches Jensen by accident in the locked supply room with a pulled-up page on the monitor that he shouldn’t have access to, and a couple of precision glide syringes in his hand. Nobody requires insulin tonight.

Jensen watches him carefully, dampy at the lashes. Before Abby went to meet God and the angels she told Jared that princes aren’t ever supposed to cry.

 

~

 

“Okay,” Jared says. He swallows dry and nods hard. It’s okay. It’s still okay.

He hugs Jensen handcuff-tight and stays holding on like a cloud of morphine.

Jensen finally sniffs, curls in against Jared’s neck and says, “I’ve never— I don’t know how to—“ _Love_. It’s choked and puny and Jared stares at the wall and wonders how long Jensen’s been ill.

 

~

 

The investigation comes and goes and any thoughts of foul play are snuffed out when nothing substantial turns up. 

Some of the staff says there’s a peculiar janitor, but nobody can settle on anything specific. The hard drives have been too recently purged.

When Jensen moves into Jared’s house and hangs his turtle scrubs in Jared’s walk-in closet, sucks Jared’s dick like his good wife, tells Jared it had to happen, he had to prevent any suffering, the only things that match between the two of them are hidden behind their bones.

The kisses Jared needs taste only of sweet mint.

 

~

 

Jensen’s a K word and Jared’s just lovefooled enough to not care. Not when he has everything he ever wanted draped naked on his bed, cock soft and wet in Jared’s mouth, fairytale face gone smooth. 

He’s still nervous for the day he’ll catch a common cold, what’ll happen, if Jensen will frown worried-eyes at him and say, “oh no, are you getting sick?”

But Jared has always known that beautiful things are never harmless.

beautiful beautiful actual digoxin kisses (0.0625mg!) by the lovely [lightinthehall](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lightinthehall/pseuds/lightinthehall) ♥ 

**Author's Note:**

> rebloggable version [here](http://homo-pink.tumblr.com/post/138364853027/hello-for-some-reason-when-i-see-that-serial)


End file.
